Sergeant Pepper's Lonely Heart's Club Band
by AlihandriaEllis
Summary: Molly O'Malley has no future. She doesn't matter. At least, until the Sergeant came. When she found where she was meant to be. And what lay ahead of her. The danger is high and the chances of success are slim. But what choice does she have, when it comes to saving the most influential band in history? Rated T for language NOT ATU
1. Who the Heck Are You?

**Hi, didja miss me? ^-^ Told you I wasn't going anywhere :). Well, this is the uber-short first chapter to my new ginormous story. Sorry about the length, they will be longer normally.**

**So, here it is. And I have the first few chapters written, so expect updates. Taa-daaa!**

**Disclaimer: not mine**

By everyday standards, I'm nobody. A starving artist, a guitar player with virtually no future. Working two jobs. Living in a dinky apartment with two cats and my music. No one had any hopes for me.

At least, until I met the Sergeant. And everything changed.

He appeared in a rainbow of light as I was closing the café I worked at.

"Hello, my dear," he smiled and hung up his engineer cap on the stand sitting by the door. His suit was dark blue. When paired with his mustache, I immediately associated him with my beloved Sergeant Pepper vinyl record, which hung framed in my room.

"Hello...?" I still don't know why I didn't scream, or call the police or something. The man just...radiated safety and security.

"It's a good thing you know me. We can cut to the chase, then," I noticed the man's Liverpudlian accent and it all clicked.

"Sergeant Pepper?" I guessed. He nodded, seeming very pleased with me.

"I need your help," he sat down. I grabbed a pot of coffee and poured both him and myself a cup. I had the feeling that I would need to stay awake for this.

"What do you need?" I asked as I added cream and sugar to the black liquid, mixing it in and appreciating the swirls as the pale liquid mixed with the coffee, creating a beautiful tan.

"There is a band, my last Lonely Heart's Club Band. I believe you are familiar with them?"

"The Beatles."

"Good. They are a magnificent group of people. But, at some point in their time stream, something went wrong. I do not know what, nor do my compatriots. The point is that history was changed. And I need your help. You and three other people. My new band," Sergeant Pepper smiled at me. I blinked, in a bit of shock.

"You mean history is wrong?" I clarified.

"Yes."

"And I'm supposed to help fix it."

"Yes."

"Well, how the hell am I supposed to do that?"

"That is up to you. Will you do it?"

I sat there thinking for a second. I could save the best band of all time. My heroes. I could save John Lennon. I could save George Harrison. It wasn't even a choice. I didn't have anything here.

"Yes. I'll do it."

And with those words, my world turned upside-down.

**Yeah...short :P. Anyway, review and get cookie. Flames are used to bake more cookies. Anyway, love you all and baiiii!**


	2. What is Going on?

**Well, this is awkward. I completely forgot to update last week. Shoot. Sorry, everyone...**

**Anyway, here it is. Thanks to everyone who reviewed. Especially "The Beatles." Whoever did that is firetrucking awesome :).**

**So, enough babble. Here be story.**

**Disclaimer: HAHAHAHAHA DO I OWN THE BEATLES?! No.**

I don't know when I closed my eyes, but when I opened them, I was greeted with a surprise. I was in a bizarre world with colors and sounds I couldn't of imagined. Tangerine trees, marmalade skies...oh. So this is what Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds was written about. Sure enough, when I looked up, the skies were filled with the shimmering stones.

"Hello, Molly," I spun around. There, in the sky, stood the most beautiful woman I had ever seen.

"Lucy," I whispered, barely a sound. She nodded and floated down, standing next to me.

"You will do nicely. The Sergeant made a good choice," Lucy scanned my body with her eyes, shining with a million lights. The girl with kaleidoscope eyes.

"How do you know me?" I asked. She shook her head in bemusement.

"I've known you since you were born. There are few people who could wear that uniform." I looked down and, sure enough, I was clothed in a red satin suit, just like the one George Harrison wore. I reached up to my head and, sure enough, there was a hat sitting there as well.

"Where are the others?" I looked around, only to see that we had moved to a boat.

"We are getting there. Patience, child," she smiled. For some reason, I wasn't irritated that she referred to me as child. Somehow, I knew Lucy was so much older than I. She would go on forever. I would shrivel up and die.

Just then, we landed on a dock. I stepped of the boat. There stood three people in suits the same as mine, only they were pink, green and blue. There was also a man, wearing a bowler cap and a suit, completely amiss in this world, yet somehow fitting right in. Beside him stood a woman, dressed in a prim dress straight out of the 1940s. Her hair was tucked up into a white hat and a messenger bag was slung over her shoulder. She was quite pretty, though in her late forties by the looks of it. In between the two of them stood a little girl. She couldn't of been more that six. Her brown was brushed back into twin braids and she wore a starched dress that shone many colors. She grinned at me and I couldn't help grinning back.

"Well, now that we are all here, let's get down to business!" Sergeant Pepper appeared and, with a wave of his hand, a picnic appeared on the grass. I sat down hesitantly, very much confused.

"Well, let's introduce everyone. This is Mr. Kite," he gestured to the man in the bowler, who smiled made a little bow.

"I'm Prudence!" the little girl grinned, playing with her dress.

"My name is Rita," the other woman straightened her bag and sat down.

"And I am Lucy," Lucy smiled reassuringly.

"I'm Joseph, I guess. Everyone just calls me Joe," the guy in the apple green suit said before sitting down.

"I am Kimiko Sakura," the woman in the pink suit said, and I noticed her strong Japanese accent.

"My name is Henry Jameson," the guy in the blue suit sat down as well.

"Well, I'm Molly O'Malley," I smiled as I sat down.

"Lovely, lovely...So, let's discuss the details of your job," Sergeant Pepper served himself a sandwich. Following his lead, I grabbed an apple and took a bite.

"You are to go to 1964 and guide the Beatles through life from behind the scenes. You are not to tell them who you are. You cannot interfere with events that are not connected to them," The Sergeant explained.

"Well, how are we supposed to change their destinies, then?" Joe spoke exactly what I felt. I looked around the group. We were a diverse bunch. Joe was black, and he spoke with a Brooklyn accent. Henry sounded southern and he looked a bit...shy, almost. Sakura was definitely asian. And I, with my flaming red hair and thick accent, was irish through and through.

"And how did you pick us?" Henry spoke up. "I mean, the Beatles were four white men. Here, we have a black guy, two girls and Kimiko is asian!"

"Sakura," I quietly corrected. "In Japan, you say your surname first."

"Sorry, Sakura," Henry looked sheepishly at the woman, who quietly smiled.

"It is okay. Most foreigners do that."

"And, to answer Henry's excellent question, you were all chosen because you have the mental capacity to believe and nothing left to lose," Sergeant Pepper explained.

"What's that supposed to mean?" Joe asked, getting a bit defensive.

"Molly, you had no future back there. An estranged musician. All you had were your cats. Sakura, you are very bright, but no outlet to exert your genius. You needed a way out. Henry, did you honestly think your family would accept who you are? And Joe, you know why you're here," The Sergeant said without blinking.

"Anyway, I will be in charge of disguising you so you will fit into the world you will soon enter. Come," Lucy stood and beckoned us to follow. I stood up and followed her. We silently wound through the forests, by now used to our psychedelic environment. I must admit, though, the portal was a bit disconcerting.

An arch stood on top of a hill, stone grey. Inside were swirls of color, like oil in water. Through the veil, I could see so many things, but they all seemed to focus on The Beatles or us. I stepped forward, transfixed on the arch.

"Well, that shall do nicely," Lucy smiled. I turned to her, confused. Then I noticed my clothes had changed. And so had everything else, once I glimpsed myself in a puddle of what looked like water.

My hair was a murky brown that couldn't seem to decide if it wanted to be curly or straight. I had grown a few inches, making me 5'6. Mud brown eyes completed the look. Bloody hell, I looked normal.

I was wearing a skirt. My clothes looked appropriate for the 60's, sure. Dear lord, did I hate them.

"Yes, you have to wear the skirt," Lucy smirked. I scowled and mentally kicked a wall. After I looked around, though, I realized I had gotten off easy. Sakura had turned into a tall, blonde supermodel, bob and all. Her skirt was easily a few inches shorter than mine.

Henry looked basically the same, only his hair was darker and his eyes were bigger and green. Very green.

Joe was...short. I was only an inch shorter. I couldn't help but smirk at this, seeing as he absolutely towered over me a minute ago. He was white now, with brown hair cut in a Beatle-esque haircut. Brown eyes, normal build. Normal was a good word for him.

None of us were recognisable now. Lucy was a master.

"Are you ready?" she asked us. I nodded and squared my shoulders. The past could bring it on.

"Once you get there, you will know your backgrounds as memories. Just try to keep out of trouble, okay?" Lucy informed us as we approached the portal. "Good luck. I am sure things will go better than last time."

"Last time-" I was cut of as the portal swallowed me, taking me into a psychedelic trance for the second time that day.

**So, Beatles next chapter. Yay ^^;;. So, review, review review! I luvz you all, bai!**


	3. ERMAHGURD IT'S A NEW BODY

**I am very, very sorry for A) not updating last week and B) for the shortness of this chapter. I honestly think this is the smallest thing I have ever written. EVER. Well, anywho, I have a good excuse. Google Docs flipped out last Friday and deleted everything I had saved on there. Which is why I had to take three hours and get all my master copies back. L&F was a huge pain in the ass, I tell you that :)**

**So, here is my dinky little piece of meh. Sorry...**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Nada. Niet. Not happening.**

When the lights cleared, I was standing in a small apartment. The walls were black and white, the furniture was sleek, black and clean, the floors were wood and everything had no personality at all. And the worst thing was that my memories were telling me that this was my home. Dear lord, was I boring. Well, who I transformed into. Hell, I don't even know anymore.

That's a good issue, though? Who am I? My brain gives me two answers, which is really weird. One half of me says I'm Molly O'Malley, I was born December 19th, 1987 and I work two jobs, both of which I hate. The other half says my name is Janice Jones, I was born April 10th, 1938 and I work at a newspaper. What the hell?

And then it makes sense. Janice Jones was assigned to follow the Beatles around for a long-term assignment. Okay, good excuse. I give them that. But still. I'm basically an employed groupie. Brilliant. Fantastic. Molto bene. Wait a minute...okay, they had Doctor Who in the 60s. I'm okay.

Then the gravity of the situation hits me. I'm supposed to save the lives of the greatest band of all time. The Beatles. I'm going to meet the Beatles.

I collapse onto the couch and cradle my head in my hands. This cannot be happening. I belong in the 21st century. Not the freaking 60s. I'm not ready to do this. It's going too fast. God, I need a beer. Or something stronger. I've never been much of a drinker, but this is a damn good reason to start.

Unfortunately, Janice Jones apparently doesn't keep alcohol in her house. Great. This is just brilliant. Muttering a few curse words, I walk over to the little box people called a TV in these days and try to turn it on. Key word being try. It takes half an hour to get the thing on. A Hard Day's Night blares through the speakers. Okay, I can live with this.

One of the beauties of A Hard Day's Night is that you don't need to pay any attention to the actual movie to get what's going on, so I let my mind wander. Where were the others? What did Lucy mean, last time?

That question got to me in a big way. Someone had gone before us and failed. The look on Lucy's face when she said that honestly scares me, in a big way. That was the thought that was in my head as I fell asleep. _What happens if we fail_.

**Yay shortness. So, reviewers get cupcakes. Flames are used to cook the cupcakes on. Yummy! Anyway, love ya'll and bye!**


	4. We all Live in a Yellow Submarine

**ERMAHGURD IT'S A CHAPTER! Hi :) Google stopped being stupid, so you guys get this. YAY.**

**Soo...I'm going to do some self-promotion here. I have a Sherlock fic that no one seems to like. If anyone is into Sherlock, I'd appreciate some familiar faces :)**

**Thank you to all reviewers, you lot give me the fuel that turns into story!**

**Disclaimer: I am legally obligated to state the obvious. I do not own the Beatles. I just use them for my evil purposes. **

"Hello, Molly," A voice whispers to me. I turn around, confused. Instead of the god-awful skirt I was wearing, I'm now in my Sergeant Pepper uniform. A glance at my reflection in the porthole I'm standing next to shows that I'm my normal self. Wait a minute. Porthole. A yellow porthole. I'm in a yellow submarine. A yellow-freaking-submarine. Well, it isn't the weirdest thing I've been through today. Lucy is standing in the doorway, incredibly out of place in the small, cramped corridors.

"Hi, Lucy. Where am I?" I smile at her. Lucy walks beside me and gazes out a porthole.

"Currently, we are in the Sea of Holes," she explained. I blink at her, still confused.

"I meant _why_ are we in the Sea of Holes," I clarify. Lucy smiles that reassuring smile that I now know comes right before she drops an atomic bomb of a fact on me.

"We're going to Pepperland. See, when your physical body is sleeping, your mind will take you here. The yellow submarine is the transport that the Beatles used and, since this world is the physical manifestations of their songs to you, it will also be yours."

"So you're telling me that instead of dreaming, I'll come here."

"Yes."

"Will I remember everything?"

"Yes."

"Will I have to always go through here?"

"Yes."

Okay, then. At least we'll get to regroup. I don't notice when Lucy leaves, I'm so lost in thought. We need some form of plan.

Before I know it, we've docked and I'm in the colorfulness that is Pepperland. Grinning, I run over a hill and quickly find a large manor. Outside it are the others. Quickly, I join them, shouting hello.

"Hi, Molly. Did you have fun in 1964?" Joe smiled down at me, relishing his height. I flipped him off good-naturedly and leaning against a tree. It feels good to be me again.

"Well, besides the fact that I'm basically a glorified groupie there, it's cool enough," I smirked. What's everyone else doing?

"My name there is Amanda Warren. I am both a model and an actress," Sakura says and I can tell she likes her situation about as much as I like mine.

"I'm a guitar tech. Pretty gear, actually," Joe smirks. I roll my eyes. Jeez, I barely know this dude and we're already like siblings.

"And I work at EMI," Henry says shyly. "And guessing by the glorified groupie comment, you, Miss O'Malley, are a journalist."

I nod with a laugh and stand up straight.

"Okay, we need a plan," I comment. Everyone else voices agreement. Picking at my nails, I glance around for suggestions. No one has squat. Seems like planning is going to be up to me now.

"Well, Henry, since you work at EMI, maybe you could keep an eye on their recording issues. Oh, and Brian! Their finances went to shit when he died," I suggested. Henry nodded in agreement. Sakura leaned forward with a suggestion.

"Due to my heritage, maybe it would be best if I were to assist in the Yoko situation," she smiled. Honestly, I didn't know if I was happy the others were suggesting things or angry that they were going to single Yoko out. I mean, sure she was a bit clingy, but that doesn't make her a demon-woman.

Noting my expression, she clarifies, "As in become her friend and steer both her and John away from drugs. I have nothing but respect for her work."

Suddenly, I like Sakura a lot more.

"I'll take care of groupies and drugs on tour," Joe grins. I smirk too.

"And I'll take care of their public image," I finish. And that's that. We start talking about random stuff and get to know each other a bit more.

Sakura is the oldest of seven children in her family. She always exceeded in school, but had to drop out to care for her siblings after her parents died in a car crash. The only reason she's here is because she wants that second chance, the chance to pick up where she left off.

Joe grew up in New York, the middle kid in his family of five. He likes to play basketball with his brothers. He's here because he wants to make a difference.

Henry grew up in rural Alabama. He's an only child. He loves horses, of all things. I was about to ask why he was here when the world started fading.

"Okay, what the hell?" I look around. Everyone is getting fainter and fainter.

"You're waking up, Molly. Good luck," I hear Lucy whisper. Then my eyes blink open and I'm back on the couch of that godforsaken flat in this godforsaken body. But it's okay now, because I've got a plan. And this will be nothing short of awesome.

**The more reviews I get, the faster I write and the longer the chapters get. ****So review review review! Love you all, bye!**


	5. Dear the 60's Screw You

**Well, it's late and I'm tired as hell, so I'll keep this brief. Short chapter due to an awful week. Many thanks to reviewers. Enjoy.**

**Disclaimer: Nope. Still don't own 'em**

I pull my hair back in a ponytail that feels strangely flat, due to the lack of curls. I've never been able to think with my hair in my face. Suddenly, I feel even more prepared for the day. 1964 can bring it on!

That thought quickly disappears, however, the instant I walk into Janice's office.

Immediately, I'm greeted by a shout of, "Hey, Jan, go get me a coffee!"

My knee-jerk reaction isn't exactly the most socially acceptable thing for the 60s, let's put it that way.

Which is how I end up in that wonderful position of sitting on a hard metal chair trying to explain your justification as to why you called your superior officer a "lazy-arsed wanker." Apparently you don't get to do that in America.

Luckily, it seems to be my first infraction in my two years of reporting, so I'm only given a lecture on respect and a strong reminder that 1964 is a far cry from 2012, especially where women's rights are concerned.

After delivering coffee to a very smug co-worker who's name I don't even bother to remember, I sit at my desk and look at the papers laying before me. Holy crap, it is a _lot_. Groaning, I crack my knuckles and get to work.

Two hours pass in the blink of an eye and I barely make a dent in the pile of crap sitting on my desk.

"Hey, Jan, would you file this for me?" the same jerk as before asks me. I nod once and snatch the papers from him before making a noise that is a cross between a groan and a growl at his back. Okay, I don't care how good the music gets, the 60s suck.

Despite the pile of tedium sitting on my desk, I get up and file the papers for Mr. Boss-Man, which is what I will call him from now on. In case you didn't notice, I don't like Mr. Boss-Man very much. Arsehole.

The rest of the afternoon passes in the same way. Papers, coffee, filing, more papers...it's an endless cycle that reminds me why I refused to even consider looking for a job in an office.

Finally, 4:00 comes and the real work begins. Mr. Boss-Man walks up to my desk and hands me an envelope. Biting back a few choice curses aimed at him, I open the envelope and discover, instead of more papers, a concert ticket. A Beatles concert ticket.

I get a hour to freshen up before Mr. Boss-Man comes to pick me up. That basically translates into change my clothes from uncomfortable blouse and skirt to another uncomfortable blouse and skirt, but with boots that I can run in. The rest of the time is spent waging war with my face.

I've never been a big fan of make-up. It's always felt fake to me, like I'm someone else with it on. Well, I'm someone else without it now, too, so some eyeshadow can't hurt.

Little do I expect the drawer full of brushes, powders and what looks like a torture device or two. Dear lord, where is the internet when you need it?

Surprisingly, I don't look like a clown when I leave the house. I'm not saying I feel fantastic, but this is the bloody closest I'm going to get in this body.

The drive is silent and more than a bit hostile on my end. I'm too busy worrying about the issues I will face to make small talk. What happens if they don't like me? Or if, god forbid, they treat me like a groupie. I'm here to save their lives, not to have sex.

I don't even notice when the car stops, but my feet are somehow making their way out of the car. Mentally, I give myself a shake before squaring my shoulders to meet the most rabid form of fangirls in history. The Beatlemaniacs.

**Yes, the next chapter comes with Beatles. Please review. And by the way, whoever the person or people are who do the Beatles anonymous reviews make my day. Keep it up, you lot rock! So, review, love, bye!**


	6. Holy Pandas, That's George Harrison

**Holy crap, it's an update.**

**Hello, didja miss me?**

**I'd like to apologize for the wait right off the bat. Three weeks is a pretty unacceptable amount of time to make you guys wait. On the other hand, however, there is a fair amount of good that came out of hiatus.**

**First of all, I discovered Minecraft. Okay, pretty pointless, I know, but it's actually a lot better than you'd think. Why? Two things; one, I can create places like Pepperland with relative ease in a place that I can look back to and describe in a fair amount of detail. Two, most of the building is a fairly mindless, so I have a lot of time to, god forbid, think about plot.**

**Second, I basically know exactly where I'm taking this now, so no more filler. This is happy news, because if there's one thing I absolutely HATE writing, it's filler.**

**And now for the best news of all: I have the next two chapters lined up and ready to go :) Plus I have Spring Break coming up, so there's more writing time there.**

**Basically, this means that I'm now a girl armed with a backlog of writing and a plan, so bring it on.**

**Thanks to all the people who have gone through and reviewed this. Seriously. I really don't deserve a group of people this great to be reading and imputing on my work, but I'll take it anyway :) You all rock.**

**So, here it is!**

**Disclaimer: Molly, Sakura, Henry and Joe are mine. Everything else isn't.**

My ears are silently calling me every curse they know, as well as a few others I think they made up just for the purpose of insulting me. And ya know what?

I don't mind a bit.

The tapes that I had seen of a Beatles concert has in no way prepared me for the real thing. For one, it's freakin loud. No, it's not loud. This agony goes waaaay beyond the realm of loud. My ears are ringing, screeching and just in agony.

And there seriously are girls passing out and literally pissing themselves for these four guys. Seriously. I mean, come _on_. It's just a band.

I mentally laugh at myself for calling the Beatles "just a band." Only a week ago, I would've killed anyone who referred to them in such a way. My oh my, have things changed.

The screams somehow manage to get louder, so I'm guessing they've ended another song. Oh, there's another thing. I can't hear a bloody note in all of this.

Hell, I can't even see the band. It's obvious that Mr. Boss-Man didn't give a flying you-know-what about how well I could observe squat.

On the plus side, I know I'm not missing all that much. From what videotapes tell us, the biggest show they give is George doing his awkward side-to-side-jump-dance-thingie. They're no Iron Maiden, that's for sure.

Still, it is pretty cool to be here. At a Beatles concert. _A Beatles concert!_

Suddenly, the screams get waaaay worse and I figure the band is through. I push my way out of the throng of girls and look for the stage entrance, press pass in hand. Time to meet the Fab Four.

"Are you lost, miss?" a security guard shouts at me. I turn and silently thank god for the help.

"Yeah, a bit. Where am I supposed to go?" I ask, brandishing my pass. The guard looks at it, tells me to follow him and then leads me to a door backstage. It's a left, a right, another left and I'm suddenly in a room filled with a bunch of other reporters, most of them female and showing waaay too much cleavage to be considered professional.

For a second, I just look around in shock. A sea of bobs, short skirts and make-up stands ahead of me. Then I notice the minibar and figure, after all this crap, I deserve a bloody drink.

I'm sitting in a corner nursing a scotch and coke when someone sits next to me.

"You know, it's not normal for the reporters to get as pissed as the band," the guy jokes. I'm feeling a bit more 2012-ish and turn to snap something rude about his face when I'm stopped in my tracks.

I'm sorry, there's no way I'm going to call George Harrison a arse-wipe. That simply crosses a line.

**Taa-daaa! And you get to know what happens NEXT Friday, because I suck :) So, reviews make me happy, flames make me sad. Please make me happy ^^ I love you all, see you next week!**


	7. so I talk to my idol

**Well, short chapter tonight, short chapter next week and then the plot actually starts. I'm really excited about it, so yay!**

**And I also have a whole week solely devoted to writing, drawing and watching TV. Just curious, is anyone besides me uber happy that Doctor Who is back in 7 days and that Sherlock started filming this Monday? I'm about ready to explode in a ball of happy joy ^^ **

**So, here's the chapter. With George. Man, has it been a while since I've written for a Beatle :)**

**Disclaimer: What's mine is mine. Everything else ain't**

I'm ashamed to admit no snappy retort came out of my mouth. No snarky comment. No amusing joke.

Well, I dare you to say something intelligent immediately after you come face-to-face with someone who inspired you more than you can say and has also been dead for 11 years. It is humanly impossible.

What does come out of my mouth is similar to the squeak a rodent makes right before it gets hit by a semi-truck going 55 kilometers per hour.

"Well, that's one response I don't normally get," George laughs it off and orders the same thing I have.

Holy crap. George Harrison is sitting right next to me. Holy crap.

"Umm..." I mumble as I stir my drink, kicking my feet under the table. I shake my head and mentally tell myself to get my act together. I have a job to do.

"So, did you enjoy the show?" George asks as he gets his drink. I kick myself from under the table and focus on not sounding like an idiot.

"I actually couldn't really hear much. My seats were terrible. I'm a fan of your music, though," I take another sip of my drink.

"Really? Where were you?" he swallows a mouthful of his drink as well.

"Right floor, toward the very back," I chug the rest of my drink and set the glass down.

"Yeah, that's pretty bad, I'll give you that," he smirks. "What other music does a bird like you listen to?"

"Guns n' Roses, Ir-" I stop myself and kick myself in the leg. Hard. No telling about the future.

"Guns n' Roses? I've never heard of them," George leans forward, genuinely curious about it. Crapcrapcrapcrapcrap...

"They're a...a skiffle band from...Timbuktu," I make up on the fly. George looks at me for a second and starts to laugh.

"Seriously, what do you listen to?" he asks again, shoulders shaking in mirth. I laugh along too, grateful that he didn't pick up on my error.

"Elvis, Buddy Holly, Eddie Cochran, Fats Domino, The Rolling Stones," I start to list. Hey, I'm not lying. I love those bands. Especially the Stones, once they stop doing all those bloody covers.

Well, the Stones comment gets George started about "This one time with Mick Jagger..."

That is how I end up laughing with one of the best musicians of all time at 1:00 in the morning, long after everyone else has left the bar.

**Yeah, short. And yes, Molly is a metalhead. It just sorta seems to fit her personality :). So, reviewers get a happy PM from me. Flamers get tears and insults and possibly a comment-war (wow...I can make references to past flaming events...I feel so old...) So, thanks for reading, BYE**


	8. What the Heck is it NOW?

**Well, here we are. Chapter. Yay. **

**So, not much to report. I screwed up a few characters, but fixed it (Thanks again, Leaf)**

**Yeah.**

**Disclaimer: Not mine**

The yellow submarine is as crazy as the last time I was there. Neon, nutso and just how I remember it.

The night with George went very well. We parted around 1:30 with me giving him my phone number and him giving me his. I'm not expecting much to come of it, though.

"You underestimate your connection to him," Lucy sits down next to me. I look at her and stop biting my nails.

"How so?" I ask before looking back out the window. Lucy laughs and takes my feathered hat off.

"Which Beatle wore this uniform?" she asks, extending the hat to me. I take it and look down at the red silk.

"George Harri-ohh. You're saying that George sitting next to me was no accident," I look up at Lucy, who smiles and nods.

"All of the Sergeant's bands will be drawn to one another, especially those who share uniforms. You will have a very...special relationship with George," she smiles before taking the hat and setting it back on my head.

"No, it most certainly won't be romantic," Lucy adds, seeming to sense my primary concern. I breathe a silent sigh of relief.

"Great. Are we there yet?" I ask, peering out the window once more. Lucy shakes her head at me with a smile before disappearing in a shower of diamond.

Just then we hit what felt like ground. I leap up and dash to the opening at the top, swinging the trapdoor open. What my eyes met, however, was most certainly _not_ what I remembered. And, just before my world sinks to mist, the thought that I'm going to find out what Lucy meant when she referred to "last time" runs through my head.

**Yes, things pick up from here. Be happy. Eat pie. Please review. Bye.**


	9. Well, We're Screwed, Aren't we?

**So, long time, no see. Sorry, folks, track started and life got crazy. Woop woop. **

**Also, we've all heard about the bombings at the Boston Marathon. I'd like to send my thoughts and prayers out to the victims, families of the victims and just Boston and general, especially to the first responders. Thank you.**

**So, that's it. Here it is.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything**

I blink and shoot up from my bed. My bed. Not Janice's bed. My bed. With the neon paintball splashes and everything. Jumping out from under my covers, I sprint to my mirror and run my hand through my hair. And I look back at me. Was all that just a dream?

No, it couldn't be...but that's the only thing that explains it. Well, no time to dwell on it now. I have work in half an hour.

Skipping a shower, I just pull a plain black tee on over my bed, making a mental note to do laundry, seeing as I've got about three shirts left. Sprinting into the coffee shop, I make it just in time for my shift.

"Hey, Jake," I smile as I pull on an apron. Jake grins back and turns to the espresso machine as I take the first order of the day.

About half an hour into our shift, I start singing Come Together under my breath.

"What'cha singing?" Jake asks as I get to the chorus.

"Don't act like you don't know," I smirk at him, but all he does is blink back, confused. "Come Together, duh, stupid."

"I've never heard of it. Who's it by?" he looks at me like I'm crazy and I get this sinking feeling that starts in my stomach and spreads through the rest of me like wildfire. Something is very, very wrong.

"The Beatles. Jake, it's your favorite song..." I'm silently praying that this is Jake's idea of a joke, but I don't think it is.

"Molly, I've never heard of them. Is everything okay?" Jake puts a hand on my shoulder.

"I've got to go," I mutter, ripping my apron off as I get to the door. Breaking into a sprint, I quickly reach my apartment and make a beeline for my music section.

It's missing. My Beatles music is missing. The records I have framed on my walls are gone. But it's not just the Beatles. Black Sabbath. Led Zeppelin. The Rolling Stones. The Who. The Police. Guns 'n Roses. Iron Maiden. Paul Simon. Kenny Loggins. Def Leppard. Metallica. All just...gone. Poof. I don't need to do laundry; three-quarters of the shirts I own have a band on them. They're all just gone.

"Oh my god, what did we do...?" I whisper as I fall onto my bed, head in my hands.

"This isn't your fault," I spin around and there's Lucy. Well, not quite. She looks faint, like a ghost.

"What happened?" I ask.

"Pepperland is under attack. I do not have much time. Listen, Molly, you must gather the other members of the band. Only then can the portal back be opened. But be warned; there will be people out to stop you. They are armed, they are dangerous and, if given the chance, they will kill you," Lucy says. I shake my head, confused.

"Who are we up against?"

"Molly, I must go. Just remember, not all of the Beatles characters were good," Lucy steps close to me and presses something into my hand. "When the time comes, you'll know what to do."

"Lucy, what do you mean? I don't understand!" I yell, but it's useless. She's already gone. I look down at the palm of my hand, however, and see a patch. A stupid Sergeant Pepper patch. How the hell am I supposed to fix this with a patch?

I guess the insanity of the past few days caught up with me because I'm sobbing without realizing it.

"I don't know what to do," I whisper, bowing my head and clutching the patch. It's not a lot, but it's all I've got right now.

**So, yeah. I hope I can update soon. Reviewers get cupcakes. Love ya'll, bye!**


	10. The Evil Psycho Killer

**Well, it's been a while, hasn't it. I'm not going to even try to make excuses. Just know I have been crazy busy doing shenanigans. Sooo...yeah.**

**It's a pretty short chapter. And filler. And next week I'm updating on Thursday; my family's going to the beach for Memorial Day, so I don't know if I'll have access to a computer Friday. But there ****_will_**** be an update, promise.**

**Disclaimer: Guess what's not mine? That's right, the Beatles**

For the first time in what feels like forever, I fall into a deep, dark, dreamless sleep. It almost feels good, having my body just shut down like this. After all the insanity of the past few days, I just want to stay in the dark forever.

Reality, however, has other plans.

It takes me awhile to drag my lazy carcass out of bed, but once I'm up, it doesn't take much time for me to take a leave of absence from work, pack a bag of essentials and get a plane ticket to Manhattan. Joe is the member I'm closest to; the fact that he's a big, strong guy doesn't hurt, though.

I call a cabbie and tell him to head for the airport. As we drive, I stare out the window in silence, thinking about something Lucy said. There were people there out to get me. Hell, they may even be here. And she was right; not all the Beatle characters were good.

"Hey, this isn't the right way," I lean over to tell the cabbie as I realize we're in an unfamiliar neighborhood on the wrong side of town. It's as I'm leaning forward that I see the silver hammer glittering in the passenger's seat.

He sees my eyes widen and smiles a slow, chilling smile that sends goosebumps up my spine and makes every fiber of my body want to run like hell.

"Maxwell, I presume," I whisper. He nods once and pulls the car over, reaching down to pick up the hammer as he opens his door. I take the opportunity to grab my bag, rip the door open and sprint off as fast as I could.

Unfortunately, however, I never was really an athletic individual. He catches up effortlessly and grabs my arm, raising the hammer over his head. Then I make use of the one thing my mother really drilled in me when I was small; if a guy is threatening you, kick 'em where it hurts.

I can say this much; the odds of Maxwell fathering children just went down significantly.

He releases my arm as he doubles over in pain, so I run some more, not stopping until I get to the airport.

I'm incredibly jumpy as I go through security but make it to my plane without a hitch. From here, I sit in my chair and stare out the window, body tense for the whole flight. After Maxwell, my brain is racing to think of all the other bad guys from the Beatles. The number that pops up in my head scares me, to be honest. This plane can't land in New York soon enough.

**Yeah...it's bloody short. Well, with that, I'm off! It's good to be back. Reviewers get interweb-glompz!**


	11. So, Road Trip Anyone?

**Look, it's a chapter! A bloody short chapter, but still a chapter. I win at life ^_^**

**Goddamn, getting your eyes dilated sucks. It's really hard to type with sunglasses on, due to the fact that I can barely see my keyboard.**

**On a totally unrelated note, I'm starting a Harry Potter fic, as if I don't have enough on my plate as it is. Read it please. It makes me happy to know people out there give a damn.**

**So, here you lot go, one day early. Yay**

**Disclaimer: Beatles ain't mine.**

Manhattan is huge. I am just now fully appreciating this as I stand in the middle of the city, overwhelmed by the movement. How the bloody hell do I find Joe amidst all this?

Of course, then I get the brilliant idea to find a phone book. And then I remember Joe never gave me his last name. Which basically, for me, translates into the longest stream of ding-dong-ditches in history.

His last name is Green, actually. It takes me 142 tries before I get to his house. By that point, I'm literally ready to destroy something. Of course, once I find him, instead of punching him, I hug his waist and silently swear to never let go.

"Holy crap, Molly! How did you get here?" he yells, utterly shocked to see me.

"A psychedelic vision told me to find you, duh! Can I come in?" I ask, still clinging to his stomach.

"Yeah, sure. I guess..." he mutters as he wriggles out of my vice-like grip. Once inside a remarkably clean flat, I tell him everything that happened, from the music disappearing to Maxwell. His reaction is the same as mine; swearing and burying his head in his hands.

Joe shows me the guest room and I collapse on the bed, falling asleep quickly.

When I wake up, Joe is packing the car with a wide variety of food, drink, entertainment and other necessities. Grabbing a six-pack of beer, I shove stuff into the trunk at random.

"Welcome back to the world of the living," he jokes, cramming the last bag of Doritos into the back. I run inside, grab my duffel and strap in for the ride.

"So, where are we going?" I ask. Joe chuckles and drums on the steering wheel.

"Down to Alabama. We need our Henry back."

**ROAD TRIP. Yeah, this shall be fun. Much fun ):). So, reviewers get an interweb sparkle ninja. Flamers don't. So get your sparkle ninja and review, please! See ya'll next week!**


	12. Fast Food, Condoms and Car Trips Yay

**Oh, man...I don't even have a legitimate excuse as to why I was gone so long. Dear god, it's been forever. Writer's block decided to bite me in the ass and I just ran out of ideas. Just...god damn. You guys are all allowed to hate me.**

**My profile and all stories are going to look different soon. I'm taking the summer to make covers for all my stories that don't suck. So I'm spending the rest of the week working on digital art that doesn't suck...yay.**

**Also, just as a heads up, this story is probably going to be finished by the end of summer. It's just coming to a close, so yay ^^**

**That's about it, so enjoy the product of two months (or something like that) rewriting.**

**Disclaimer: If I owned the Beatles, do you really think I'd spend my time writing fanfics about them?**

Alabama is humid. I mean, I knew this before we started driving, but we don't get this sort of thing in nice, cold, rainy England. No I know what it really means to have sticky air. Thank god I used pitstick...

"Are we there yet?" I whined, causing Joe to look at me with irritation.

"Has the car stopped moving?"

"No..."

"Then we're not there yet."

I squirmed some more before going back to my previous form of entertainment, which was staring out the window. Road trips without music that doesn't suck is hard. Conversation has long since run dry. The only thing that breaks the monotony is the occasional stop at a gas station for fuel and yet more junk food.

Right now, we're in the middle of South Carolina, which marks about the halfway point for our journey. It's getting dark and I suggest we should find a place to stop for the night. It takes another 45 minutes of driving before we find a small, dingy motel that I normally would take one look at and run in the opposite direction, but we really don't have many options right now.

"Will you be needing two beds?" the teenager giving us our room key asks.

"Of course we'll be needing two," I reply, slightly disconcerted.

"Well, just know that the walls are thin," Then this punk leans over to Joe and whispers, "Condoms are in the bathroom cabinets."

He flushes bright red and just retreats to the stairs. It's not until we get to the room that we burst out laughing.

"Oh god...that was horrible..." I gasp between bouts of laughter. After we settle down, Joe's curiosity gets the better of him and we learned there were, in fact, condoms in the bathroom, which naturally triggers another bout of laughter.

We eventually get to bed and sleep in shifts, which may seem paranoid but we see as just being cautious. Maxwell still looms large in my memory.

We get out by 6:00 and eat the traditional road breakfast of an Egg McMuffin. Then it's down to another six hours of boredom and, this time, nerves. Although neither of us talk about it, I think both of us know that everything is going to change when we get there.

**Well, that's the end of that. Next chapter, things will actually get interesting, I swear to god. Thanks for putting up with all my filler crap. Reviewers get puppies. Flamers are used to FEED the puppies :) Love you all, BYEEEEE!**


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